


quid pro quo

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gray Morality, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Implied/Referenced Underage, M/M, Noncon not between Shiro and Keith, implied casting couch, memory suppression/issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22660705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Galaxy Garrison thrives on quid pro quo. Or, everyone knows they know what’s going on. They don’t.
Relationships: Implied Keith/Shiro, Shiro (Voltron)/Other(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Anonymous





	quid pro quo

**Author's Note:**

> I have tagged for as much as I can. Please let me know if there needs to be more. I wrote this to process a real life situation, so please be civil if you want to comment.

He did protect Keith, he reassures himself as the rocket pulls farther and farther away. He warned him off the professors who never seemed right, who were _rumored_ , but never got ousted. He discouraged certain areas of the Garrison, where cameras were dodgy or simply not there at all. He repeated, _Be_ _careful, keep your head down, don’t get into any trouble when I’m gone._

The dog tags, Shiro hopes, will serve as a talisman. He hates marking Keith in this way, dishonoring him to keep his honor. But it’s what he can do, from galaxies away.

He hopes it’s enough. He could never love him, not by tainting him with dirty fingers. But he could do this.

* * *

“Weekend pass?”

Keith holds his breath, handing over the slip of paper that he’d kept pressed between pages of his flight aerodynamics textbook. The scanner silently passes over, a thin red laser line.

The officer nods, gives him a thumbs up. “You’re all clear.”

* * *

It’s one person. The outlier. An isolated incident. This kind of thing doesn’t just happen. And if it’s consensual, wouldn’t that be embarrassing? If you’re wrong, you’ve ruined reputations, every relationship you’ve worked hard to cultivate. They’re good people, you’ve been to their birthdays and christenings and weddings, they’ve cried on your shoulder and drunkenly cradled their heads in their hands, you’ve seen them at their worst, they can’t do that. They know the consequences.

But what if you say a private word? They might…

* * *

James seethes.

Unlike some people, he deserves to be here. He worked his ass off, got the grades and recommendations, did all the paperwork. And how was he thanked? Kogane skated up to the top, holding Shiro’s hand all the way up. The little car thief, the procrastinator, the delinquent. He’d worked until his fingers bled, and this is what happened?

Unlike _some_ people, he’d do it right.

* * *

A lifeline. All you need is a lifeline, and then you’d would be okay.

_Are you okay? You look tired._

There’s no use in telling. There will be inquiries, forced face-to-faces, media coverage. Handled internally, most likely, and what good does that ever do? Subtle snubs, or outright sabotage—either way, retaliation for misconduct, misconduct that wasn’t necessarily yours. _But are you participating in the system if you do it? Aren’t you consenting?_

But it’s not your fault; it’s them—the network that entangles everyone. Tug one, and the rest will follow. And being kicked out of the Garrison? Your chances are over before they began. Maybe with someone with nothing to lose—but everyone has something. Everyone has a weakness.

The only thing to do is push forward. When you get to the top, you can change things.

Besides, you reason, until then, who would they believe?

* * *

Adam stands in the crowd, with everyone else, as the countdown begins. Officers flank a woman with a white dog, a girl with a purple dress, a boy with an orange uniform. 

_I did what I could,_ he thinks.

* * *

The results are in. 

_Who got it?_ Everyone buzzes. _Who’s at the top?_ It’s pinned up on the board, names in a line. _Let's compare notes. What did you do? What could you have done? What did you hear? Can you believe..._

* * *

During graduation, a professor twice catches his eye and smiles, and he quickly looks away.

He’s been contacted about an investigation. The institution sounded like they wanted to clean house. Do this right. They asked questions, from veiled to blunt: _Did you notice he treated some people any differently? Did he ever make comments—sexual in nature? Did he take photos of you without your consent?_ He compares notes with who he knows are in the very small department.

He gets an email, two months later: _The investigation has concluded._ Nothing else.

Maybe the professor is innocent. And if he is—had he snubbed him for no good reason? Guilt fills his stomach, stills his tongue.

Someone playfully shoves his shoulder, and he steps forward, off the stage’s stairs, to smile for another picture.

* * *

It passes along from shelf to shelf. ( _And that’s why you never have any kids yourself,_ he and Adam used to finish in a hoot.)

Someone would tell. 

And with that, it became easier to pass off the responsibility. Someone else would step forward. Someone else would do _something._ Someone else would start the fire that would raze the Garrison.

* * *

Later, Shiro would think, it was all very obvious. The sneaking out. The missed curfews. The hoverbikes. The family-only launch date. The body not in the dorm room. The being alone, off grounds, with no supervision, no questions asked.

_If somebody thought they knew, why didn’t they say anything? Why would they let him get away with it?_


End file.
